


Under the Table

by Liviconnor



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Almost Exhibitionism, F/M, Multi, past Merlin/Arthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviconnor/pseuds/Liviconnor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, and Morgana have a plan that involves their partners, a long table, and an even-longer table cloth. All of it makes for a delicious dinner, as long as Uther doesn't figure it out.</p><p>Includes mild exhibitionism, sex under a table, blatant heterosexuality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Table

The table is long, far longer than three people need, and for tonight Arthur and Morgana have covered it with a tablecloth that reaches almost to the floor. The plates are clustered on one end, the food being kept warm in the kitchen, and Uther is due home in about five minutes.

Merlin's already naked, and half hard as he flattens the thick blanket under the table. His head and shoulders disappear under the green tablecloth, and only his legs and arse poke out. Arthur comes out of the kitchen, spatula in hand.

"Jesus, you're bony," he says. "Lord knows why she likes you, skinny little exhibitionist." He smacks said exhibitionist's bum, leaving a splattered outline of sauce.

"Ha," Merlin says, ducking out from underneath, "You're just jealous you aren't getting any."

"I'm getting plenty," Arthur scoffs.

"Boys," Gwen says as she walks into the room, "Don't fight."

Merlin licks his lips, and Arthur looks appreciatively at her naked body- no, not naked. She's wearing his socks. Arthur kisses her hello, and holds her hand as Merlin stands to greet her, pulls her close to kiss her slowly, wetly.

"Not yet," she says after a moment, "not 'til we're underneath."

"Sorry," Merlin says, not looking terribly sorry at all. She pecks him on the cheek, and goes to check on dinner with Arthur.

~o~

"He's here!" Morgana calls from the front window a minute later, and suddenly the dining room is all in a tizzy. Gwen and Merlin duck under the table, Morgana triple-checks the area for spare clothes, exposed blanket, condom wrapper corners, or anything of the like, and Arthur starts bringing dishes out just as the front door opens and Uther's heavy steps follow their daily routine. Hall closet, shoe rack, key hook, hallway, dining room...

"Arthur," Uther says.

"Father."

"Morgana, is business going well?"

"Yes, we're hiring a new assistant soon to help with the new spring orders. Layla's been overwhelmed."

"Well, that's good. I'm glad you kept her; her father's been pleased."

There was a silence that grew, as Morgana and Arthur wonder what is going on under the table as they stand around it.

"I'll put on some music," Arthur says quickly, and puts on the classical station. "I've made next week's special tonight. It's something we've been working on at the Vineyard, and I think I've finally got the herbs right. Tell me what you think." He serves everyone neatly, meat with polenta and mixed vegetables stewed into a savory sauce, with vegetable broth instead of wine, as it's been since Uther kicked the habit.

From under the table comes the soft sound of a female sigh. Morgana shifts.

"It's excellent, Arthur," she says.

"You haven't tried it yet," he says, smirking.

"It smells excellent," she snaps.

"Right. How was your week, father?" Arthur says.

"Dreadful," he begins. "Those snakes at Waterfront and Wells are cutting into our clientele, as always, and they're deliberately undercutting our prices, despite the fact that those prices are not profitable or sustainable for them. I had our researchers do the math, and I can prove that they're losing money, but they're wooing some of the small orders away, and-" he goes on, hardly pausing for a sip of juice as he speaks, and Arthur has to cross his legs and hope, pray, that his father didn't just hear the wet slap of skin on skin that sounded so clear to him.

"This is very good, Arthur," Uther says, as he pauses.

"Yes," Morgana adds, "What mix did you use?"

"Hah, as if I'd tell you. I spent forever perfecting this, figuring out the right blend for this sauce. You'd have to pull the recipe from my dying fingers," Arthur says, and right there, right after he speaks, Gwen puffs a breath into the silence. If it weren't for the fact that he knows Merlin and Gwen care about his father's opinion, he'd think they were trying to be caught.

"What was that?" Uther says.

"Must have been a passing car," Morgana says. A truck goes by as Arthur nods. "See? There's another. It's terrible, with all these new hybrids and cars burning vegetable oil, you hardly know what to expect from traffic!" Her voice sounds a bit shrill to Arthur, but Uther agrees solemnly, and begins another long speech on the evils of society- this time on misguided attempts to green up the workforce and use lower-weight paper for photocopying- so the moment passes.

A foot bumps into Arthur's, and rubs. Up, down, up, down, and then it's still, but he feels the toes curl.

"Terrible!" Arthur interrupts. "Yes, I so agree. Really, recycling should have standards. Standards are so important these days." He swallows. "More polenta?"

"No thank you. Uther?"

"Yes, and some chorizo as well," he says, and Arthur swears he can see sweat break out on Morgana's face as they sip their juice, and try to wait it out as their father finishes his dinner. Of course he would pick this night to delve into their personal lives...

"And how is Merlin?" Uther asks.

"He's fine," Morgana says. "Great. He just got a promotion, actually, he's senior manager now."

"I imagine he's quite busy, then," Uther says, and Arthur has to stifle a snort. The foot kicks him.

"Actually it's quite nice. He gets to set his own hours now, so we can spend weekends together instead of working." To her credit, Morgana looks genuinely pleased as she says this.

"I'll expect him at dinner next week, then," Uther says. "Why isn't he coming tonight?"

"I expect he's still quite busy," Arthur says. "With the transition. Changing positions can be quite a lot of work to do smoothly." The foot kicks him again.

"Yes, you would know that," Morgana says. "With all the upheaval at the Vineyard. How's the new chef doing?"

"Morgause is lovely," he says tightly. "She's a great chef, and she has the right personality for it."

"And what personality is that?" Morgana goads. "Charming and sweet?"

"Independent. Creative. Forceful."

"Mhmm..." Morgana hums, not trying to hide her smug grin.

"Alright, so we've been arguing a bit," Arthur admits. "Great minds and all that. But she has a way with eggplant, so we've been splitting meals and she's doing fine. Even if she is no Lancelot."

"Well, it's good to see that you've found a replacement," Uther says, in a voice Morgana and Arthur recognize from their adolescence. It's the 'put him down, let go of her hair, and sit in opposite corners' voice, and they both go quiet immediately. A wet smack comes from under the table, and Arthur blushes red.

"I must have left something in the kitchen," he says, and jumps out of the room.

~o~

In the kitchen, he leans against the fridge, willing his blush away. Just the thought of his father catching on is enough to kill his erection, and he has to wonder what part of him thought this was a good idea. Then he remembers that his girlfriend is fucking the only man he'd ever had sex with, six inches from where he'd been sitting. He swallows, thinks of the Queen (who looks so much like his grandmother, it was shocking), and retrieves dessert. He slops some extra frosting onto the floor for an alibi, and carries the cake in.

"I left some frosting on the counter," he says. "Would you like dessert in the living room?"

"Yes," Morgana says, and leads the procession. 

Arthur gives her the cake, then excuses himself- "plates and silverware."

"Let me help-" Uther says.

"NO!" Morgana and Arthur almost shout.

"I mean, relax, you've had a long week, we'll treat you," Morgana says, and follows Arthur out.

~o~

Arthur is not in the kitchen. He's bent under the table, kissing the hell out of his girlfriend. Merlin is still buried inside her, balls-deep and flushed from ears to chest. He's biting his lip, hands wrapped around Gwen's hips, barely thrusting from behind while she gasps into Arthur's mouth. Morgana circles the table to reach Merlin, dipping under the cloth to bury one hand in his hair. She kisses him hard, bites his lower lip and pinches at his nipples, and his hands turn to claws as he thrusts hard into Gwen.

"God, Morgs," he whispers into her hair and tenses, comes hard with tiny gasps. Once he's breathing a little more steadily, his eyes open.

"I will make you scream later," he promises.

"I'll take you up on that," Morgana says, running a hand through her hair. "Meanwhile I've got to shuffle on those plates. Sorry, hon." He nods, and she pops back into the kitchen, barely missing Arthur's artfully dripped frosting on the floor.

"Arthur! I am not cleaning up your mess!" She says dramatically, and quick as lightning grabs what she needs and returns.

"Where is your brother?" Uther says.

"He left a huge mess in there," Morgana says. "Stuff everywhere, frosting on the floor, he might be a while. So tell me, any news on aunt Annie's visit?"

~o~

Arthur returns several minutes later, looking a bit flushed but quite happy.

"Everything taken care of in there?" Morgana asks.

"Yes," he says. "Kitchen's clean, food's away, tablecloth's even in the laundry."

"Aren't you a good one for finishing what you started," Morgana says, then stops, and gestures. "But I think you have a bit of polenta, just- there. You may want to wash up."

Arthur feels at his sleeve, finds the substance she means, and dashes off to the bathroom. Maybe they won't do this again here, but this is definitely not the last time. When it comes to this, they are both good at sharing.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are collected, polished, and hoarded in the back of my cave!


End file.
